


i will make you believe you are lovely

by IAOOT13



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Assault, Like, Multi, Pekka is a tired kitten, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, but the team loves them, juuse is a baby slut, really loves them, team poly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAOOT13/pseuds/IAOOT13
Summary: Pekka is loved, and he knows that, but he wasn't always and even when he was he didn't always see it.





	1. Chapter 1

He came to this team when he was only 22 years old, but he was already so tired and worn. His edges were sharp but brittle.

Every practice was a fight; keep your eyes on the puck, stay focused, stay level-headed, don't fuck up, focus, focus, speak English in the locker room, work on the five hole. Everybody told Pekka what he was doing wrong, but no body told him what he was doing right. He would stumble home, aching for something in his bones, hips and head hurting, ribs creaking, and wrap himself up in a heavy blanket before crying himself to sleep. His mind would reel, unmoored and wild, not something that needed to be contained or tamed, but something that needed to know that it had a safe spot. And Pekka didn't have a safe spot.

For many months, years even, Pekka handled himself. He did what he could, pushed himself just like coaches and training staff asked, made his family proud-ish, and tried not to long for something he believed he would never have. But then, he makes a stupid mistake.

He's starting for the Admirals because Brian can't and preforming, so he decides to treat himself. He goes to a bar, no, a club at home and dances with people who don't know who he is or care what he is. It doesn't help his mindset, but he craves the intimacy. Finland doesn't know him as well as his parents might think.

Upon leaving, he's struck from behind and names are hurled at him. Through teary eyes Pekka tries to see who is hurting him, but he can't as a set of hands shoves him to the ground and another grips his jaw. More hands pin his arms down and grope his chest as thick fingers are shoved over his tongue to silence his hysterical yelling. He thrashes and sobs and yanks his body from side to side until blazing pain rips up from his shoulder. The hands leave him, thankfully never removing a single article of clothing, with a few curses that have no effect on his numb mind.

He doesn't know how long he stays there until he picks himself up and limps home. 

\----

"It's disappointing, but that's what the NHL is all about -- good and bad things happen,'' Predators general manager David Poile told the Nashville Tennessean. "The good news is that he should be ready around the start of the new year, so we hope he'll be able to play half a season in good form."

...

"He probably could have played with it, but there's a good chance it might have popped out during the season. so collectively, we decided it was smarter long-term to go with the surgery.''

\----

Now he's more careful. Sure, he wants things he can't possibly have, but doesn't everybody? 

His body still aches, his hip throbs the most. He doesn't cry as much as he used to, but when he does he's usually overwhelmed. He doesn't have a safe spot yet, but he's looking for one.

\----

After surgery he gets called up for two games. 

He steps into the locker room, shoulders tense and breath baited. Pekka doesn't know what to expect, how the guys will receive him, but he knows what he has to do. How he needs to preform. 

He's early, no one else but some staff is there. So he takes the opportunity to walk around the room, swinging his arms in lazy circles around his torso. He looks at the name plates, the numbers and gear, and briefly fantasizes about having a name for himself in this room. He rounds back to his, Ellis's, stall and starts to stretch out his legs. He wants to be limber and ready, not taking any chances of being thought of as lazy or unprepared. 

Pekka's in the straddle splits, breathing through soreness in his right hip, while his elbows rest on the ground in front of him when most of the team walks through the doors. They don't see him at first, and for that Pekka is simultaneously hurt and grateful, but then Mason and Greg Johnson spot him shortly after they walk in and he has to get out of splits to shake their hands. 

They've got firm grips, Johnson's is more welcoming while Mason's seems to be more anticipatory. Pekka guesses his would be too if some call-up was trying to take his rightful place.

\---

After the 2nd game he's told he's getting sent back down. He's told that he did good but needs more time to develop. He's 24, 6'5'', and he's told he needs time. He breathes in and out, shakey, and tells coach "thanks for having me, it was an honor" before turning back to the locker room to collect his bag. 

Pekka doesn't acknowledge the rest of the guys, and they don't acknowledge him, at least, he thinks they don't. He goes to Ellis's stall and slings his bag over his shoulder, the strap digs into his shoulder; too boney. 

As he leaves Johnson stops him with a hand on his elbow, tells him that he was good, really good for them, before turning away. Pekka stands there, blue eyes wide as something unravels in his gut and his body heats up. 

On the bus ride home, if he could call it that, Pekka doesn't feel as cold as he usually does. His hands don't shake as much and his mind feels soft and fuzzy instead of harsh and punishing.

Pekka sleeps wrapped up in his heaviest blanket, pretending that someone is holding him. 

\---

In 2008 Pekka gets called up again. He holds his breath through the entire phone call. Mason was traded to St. Louis and they want him as Ellis's backup. He tells them "thank you", "I'm honored", "I'll be there", and then breaths, hunched over his knees with his head in his hands. 

He **can't** fuck this up.


	2. Chapter 2

Pekka just needed to keep breathing. Breathing is what kept him alive. Breathing allowed him to keep playing. Breathing helped him to count the number of days that he'd been playing with the Predators. 

His position on the team is shaky at best. He's mostly ignored or looked over, even by the staff. They all keep wondering why he's there. He keeps wondering why he's here. Everyone knows that it was purely by luck that he's got this position. This chance. Him making it to the big show wasn't just him, it was the powers that be deciding that Mason had to go to the Blues. Why it was him that got called up, no body knows. No one thinks that he belongs on the team. The reporters say it, fans say it, other players say it, even Pekka thinks it as he stumbles down the corridor to the locker room, numb from another loss. 

What is he even doing? What is he doing for the team? He's a backup, Dan Ellis doesn't even need a backup, that's why Chris Mason got traded, right? Pekka breathes. 

With questions come rumors. And in a league of men who spend most of the year with each other, news circulates fast. Therefore rumors come up from the AHL or some development program and hang around the NHL, waiting to be refuted or confirmed or simply lost in space. Rarely are they ever lost. 

\---

Practice takes everyone through the wringer, Pekka included. His body hurts as he files into the locker room with the rest of the team, but then again, when has it not? Pekka doesn't think he can honestly remember a time when he hasn't hurt. Maybe that's sad? He doesn't know. Tries not to care. If this is what it takes, then he'll carve up his body, tear limb from limb, crack open his ribs and bare his bloody heart to the hockey gods. Maybe that will keep him up. Keep him from getting sent down.

He shuffles in place in front of his stall (_his stall!_) next to Ellis's. He's stripped out of his pads, settled carefully together so they can air out. He needs to clean them, but that can wait till after his shower. He's waiting, watching the rest of the team, trying to see who's taken a shower and who hasn't, wanting to know when he can get his. His place on the team is unknown, even to Pekka, who should know better than anyone else. Except for the coaches, but they don't talk to him except to tell him what he did wrong. He doesn't know the order of things, who goes first or last, who's turn it is to do what, who gets to do this or touch that, it's all a mystery. Pekka hates getting surprised. Surprises used to be associated with birthdays or in-laws visiting during Christmas, but now it means going to the Mariners, packing up his stuff, getting unmoored again. Surprises are bad. 

Pekka grabs a towel from his stall and resolves to at least get all of the sweat absorbed from his hair and neck so he doesn't get chilly, despite the humidity of the locker room. Then he starts to take off his under armor. The flexible material is loose on him, he's still too skinny, and the sweat only makes it worse. Regardless he has trouble taking it off, the fabric sticks in places and slides in others and is overall very difficult. He used to be efficient, but in a room full of people who feel like they're constantly judging you makes it hard for Pekka to even tie his laces. 

Therefore he's got the shirt mostly over his face when one of his elbows gets stuck. It's turned sideways in the sleeve, effectively blocking any progress. Pekka struggles for a minute, sweat cooling on his chest making him shiver and suck his stomach in to the point where he knows his ribs are showing, nipples tightening and aching with the occasional brush of his arm or shirt as he tries to get free. Then big hands land on his rib cage, one on either side of his body.

"Easy kid" Ellis says, spasming his fingers against Pekka's ribs making him jerk again, ticklish.

Ellis grips Pekka's shoulder, right over his surgery scar, and wraps a hand around his elbow, guiding Pekka's body seamlessly until the shirt passes over Pekka's head, matting down sweaty blond-brown hair, pressing it to his forehead.

Pekka looks at Dan Ellis, blinking at his goaltender's face. Ellis has interacted with Pekka, but not a lot. They will be expected to room together during the next road trip, but that seems years away right now, as Pekka's eyes meet Ellis's, clear blue meeting dark hazel. Ellis is holding Pekka's sweaty shirt in one hand, the other spans the circumference of Pekka's right wrist. They stand there, in each other's space, looking at each other, analyzing one another.

Just before Pekka can break eye contact and try and stop his blushing he watches Ellis's eyes narrow and then look over Pekka's shoulder. Ellis's fingers shift over Pekka's wrist, tightening slightly, and then Pekka hears it.

It's just rookies talking, they're actually call ups who didn't get drafted that year but are still given a chance to make it to the big show, but they're still talking. They're talking about Pekka. Hockey players talk shit all the time, the locker room is full of people who talk shit, in fact, Pekka could name several people easily off the top of his head, but this isn't shit-talk. This isn't even chirping. 

They are saying things about him that make his chest hurt, make him fight to breath, make his gut clench and shoulders taught with tension. They are talking about how he got here. How someone of so little worth could have made it to this position. They call his a slut, a whore, someone who got to where he is only on his back or knees or stomach, taking it and getting all that he deserved. All in the name of hockey. They're saying that he was kept down because Poile couldn't get enough of his mouth, but thought he wasn't worth the trouble so sent him along to suck Trotz's dick as some sort of sick gift. 

Pekka's gone so cold and still, watching Ellis watch the call ups. He looks down at his bare feet against the gross carpet when he sees the muscles shift in Ellis's face. He can't bare to see the disappointment, the realization. This is the other shoe dropping, Pekka thinks. This is the beginning of the end. From here Ellis will spread the word, get Pekka to be ostracized from everyone else, if it was even possible to isolate him further. Then he'll get the call. He'll get told that the NHL isn't for him, that despite all the time and effort put into him by the good staff for the Predators, he's just not NHL material. Sorry. There goes his career.

"Hey!" Pekka jerks, almost falling backwards as Ellis abruptly lets go of Pekka's wrist and crosses the room with big strides. 

"What do you think you're doing? What're you talkin' like that for?" The rookies startle and look up at Ellis with wide eyes and opened mouths.

"Tha's my rookie your talking about, mine, you hear? Don' talk like that, he's mine, don' fuck with him." Some of the rookies look around Ellis at Pekka, narrowing their eyes, trying to calculate, wondering what they should think about this new development. Pekka himself didn't know what to think, he was just as shocked as the rookies, just as shocked as the rest of the locker room.

There's silence, before Barry Trotz coughs from his position in the door and asks for Ellis to step into his office. Ellis swivels his head and looks at Pekka, Pekka looks back.

\----

Pekka rushed through his showers as fast as he could, trying to ignore the beating of his heart and the tears stinging his eyes. He didn't know what to make of Ellis. Maybe Ellis was just casing him out before making a move. Did that count as a move? One buddy helping another? Was that just buddies?

Pekka didn't have the stifling sense of heteronormativity in the locker rooms growing up that Russian or American, or even Canadian kids seemed to grow up in. He had teammates who slept together, friends who dated other friends, guys who sucked dick after a loss and fucked pussy after a win. Pekka wasn't sure where he fit in all of that; guys, friends and teammates and strangers alike, had come on to him, propositioned him at one point or another, so he at least assumed that guys found him attractive. But, well, what he wanted didn't matter.

What mattered was what Ellis was going to do in the future. 

\---

So far it seems that Ellis was content with the usual routine of ignoring Pekka, or pretending he doesn't exist, at least until after a game or practice. Then, Ellis waits until Pekka's facing his stall before putting his hands on Pekka.

Ellis starts with Pekka's ribs, just feeling them, their curve and rigidness, how they stand out from Pekka's belly with has some softness to it. Then Ellis grips the bottom of Pekka's under armor shirt and peels it up and off, slowly, gently, exposing inch by inch of skin to a different temperature. By the time Ellis has leaned over and dropped the shirt into Pekka's stall, Pekka has goosebumps all over his arms and neck and chest, his stomach is taught, and he's waiting for Ellis to do something, touch him in some way. 

A gust of air is blown across the nape of Pekka's neck, Ellis grips Pekka's hip (the one that always aches), and turns Pekka towards the showers. Once they reach the tile, Ellis separates himself from Pekka, turning water to almost boiling hot temperatures. There, Ellis turns and faces Pekka, and expectant look on his face. Only recently has Pekka figured out that Ellis is asking him a question.

Does he want it? or not?

The first few times Pekka basically said no. He walked to the faucet next to Ellis and washed up while staring resolutely at his feet, trying to ignore the sounds of Ellis getting off next to him.

But now Pekka comes to Ellis, tips his head down and presses his forehead against Ellis's clavicle. Ellis, "call me Dan, kid, when we're like this", threads a hand into Pekka's hair, holds the shaking goaltender in place while wrapping his other arm around Pekka's shoulders. The motion pressed Pekka's cold body into Dan's wet and warm chest, hips, legs, shoulders, body. Then a waiting game starts.

Depending on the mood, how much Pekka aches, what day it is, what time it is, any variable, Dan might loosen his hold around Pekka's shoulders and slip his hand down to where it will lightly rest above Pekka's ass. If Pekka shifts back against the hand, Dan goes further, gently pets across Pekka's hole while using the heel of his hand to pin the small of Pekka's back to Dan's body. The fingers will keep petting, getting more and more forceful until Pekka's relaxed to the point that a finger can dip in. Dan will hook that finger and keep Pekka in place, grinding against Pekka's hip, hot and heavy, so big. Pekka whines, fingers sliding against wet skin as Dan pries him open, adds another finger, pushes Pekka forward so his dick is nestled against Dan's hip and stomach. It makes Pekka ache, but he never wants it to stop.

If Pekka doesn't respond, Dan kisses the side of Pekka's head and uses the hand in Pekka's hair to turn Pekka around, back to Dan's chest. Dan's hand will skate down Pekka's abdomen and wrap around Pekka's cock. Dan will press his teeth to Pekka's shoulder and stroke, long and slow, a little harder than Pekka would do for himself, but he never tells Dan off. By the time Pekka comes, his thighs are trembling and his shoulder is sore from bites and pressing of teeth. He gasps, hands holding onto Dan's arm for dear life as he spurts onto his own thighs. Then Dan kisses the shell of his ear, mumbles that he's "such a good boy for me" and turns him around, hands against the tiled wall so he can fuck Pekka's thighs using Pekka's come. 

During both times, once Dan's come, Pekka's so keyed up again he's whimpering high in his throat, stomach, legs, and arms trembling. His heart and head are full. Dan will chuckle, press Pekka's dick up against his belly and pet the head with two fingers, like he might do with a girl's clit, and calls him beautiful. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I posted the first chapter around 9am on October 9, 2019 and the second around 10pm on October 10. I did not think I would get as many hits or kudos this soon! And some of you even bookmarked! Thank you so much!!!! *hearts hearts hearts*

As the horn sounds Pekka's body is shaking in his pads and between the pipes. A shoutout. The words flash on the screen of the jumbotron (!!!SHUTOUT!!!) and then it switches to his face. Words line the screen, "second rookie goalie in Predators' franchise history to record a shoutout", and Pekka tries not to sob at the feeling of his beating heart and the swelling sensation in his chest. 

His teammates leap off the bench and over the wall, skating across the ice towards him. They swarm him, big and bulky gloved hands touching him all over, stroking his helmet, jersey, pads. Their faces are grinning up at him, happy for him, proud of him. 

Ellis is the last, his grin almost sad as he cups the back of Pekka's helmet. He presses their foreheads together, separated by Ellis's baseball hat and Pekka's mask. 

"I'm so proud of you, kid. You did so good, so good for me, so good for the team, so good for the fans, so good for yourself. I'm proud."

Pekka sobs then, hearing words that he's craved for so long and only now just gotten. Ellis pulls back and looks Pekka in the eyes, dark hazel staring into icy blue, and smirks. Just a simple twitch of his face, pulling muscles on the right side, shifting the mood. 

\---

When Pekka gets off the ice and into the locker room everyone cheers. He's startled, thinking no one would see him coming, but they did and they cheer. He ducks his head, smiling at his pads, and goes to his stall to undress. 

Ellis is waiting for him there, still grinning, and reaches out to grab Pekka's wrists. Pekka stills, looking at Ellis, scared and anticipatory. They never did this in front of teammates. They might in the showers, but the tile is hell on Pekka's knees and the soft carpet in Ellis's bedroom is much better. 

Ellis raises an eyebrow just as one of the boys whoop "rookie's gonna _get it_". Others laugh and cheer, they sound gleeful and not at all surprised. So Pekka trusts, trusts his starter, his team, his friends, and sits down in the stall, wrists lax in Ellis's, Dan's, hold. Dan grins, and leans forward, bussing a kiss on Pekka's forehead, before turning towards the boys.

"Who wants to show Pekka how good he was? Think he deserves it? Busting ass for us, try'na get us up, I think he needs some lovin'."

The boys all cheer again, and Pekka flushes red because "lovin'" is Dan's code for "serious fucking", not that Pekka would expect the boys to know that, but he imagines that Dan is going to guide them through it. 

Hornqvist steps forward, wide grin on his face. He rounds the logo in the center of the room before kneeling in front of Pekka. He smiles up at Pekka, before reaching his hands around Pekka's legs and begins undoing the straps for his leg pads. It takes time, Horny's going slow on purpose, Pekka knows that Horny knows how to undo pads ever since that rumor about him and Lundqvist went around, some sort of sweet torture.

Pekka can't seem to stop blushing, his ears heating to the point where he thinks they're going to set on fire. One pad off, Horny presses a kiss to Pekka's knee-cap before switching to the next pad. Pekka is so focused on the feel of Dan's hands on his wrists, on the gentle feeling of Horny undressing him, that he startles when Radulov grips his ankle over his skates. The Russian silently unlaces Pekka's skates, head bowed almost reverently, and Pekka's heart swells. 

By the time Horny has gotten his jersey and chest protector off, Rads has removed Pekka's skates and placed them under the bench, blades covered. He sits next to Pekka and tips his head so it rests on Pekka shoulder and wraps his arms around Pekka's torso. Horny joins him on the other side, mimicking Rads's position, while Dan still holds Pekka's wrists.

Then Shea steps up, his intense stare is leveled right at Pekka, jaw firm and arms crossed, before relaxing his stance and twitching into a smile. He kneels, like Rads had, before Pekka, but his spine is straight so he is level with Pekka's face. Gently, Shea cups Pekka's jaw, stroking the hinges with barely restrained pressure, before leaning forward and kissing him. 

Pekka startled back, eyes darting up to Dan, confused and hurt and scared. But Dan just smiled and let go of his wrists so he could grip the back of Pekka's neck.

"It's okay, kid. This is your reward, from them at least. Later I'm gonna fuck you, nice and slow like I know you want. But for now the boys are gonna treat you good."

Pekka whimpers, mouth open, cold air being sucked in ragged intervals, before turning back to Shea. The man waits patiently, stroking Pekka's knees with his big hands. Steeling himself, Pekka tips his head to the side and slots his mouth against Shea's, delighting in the overlap of slick on chapped. 

The kiss isn't chase, but they don't make out. What seems like all too soon Shea is breaking away from him, gracefully getting up from the floor, and ruffling Pekka's hair. Then Jordin steps forward and bends at the waist, picking up Pekka's lack hand and kissing it, before crouching a little more and frenching him. When he's done Pekka sits dazedly in his stall, bracketed by Rads and Horny, watched over by Dan, and so, so, so content. Erat kisses his forehead and then his lips, quickly but with respect. Sutes cradles his head in two big paws before softly kissing him until Pekka was sure that he saw stars and the world gained a pink hue. Dan laughed at his expression.

"Think Pekka's got it bad for you Sutes, Becky better watch out incase he steals you away before you can propose."

There are laughs all around, chirps all around, and things thrown at him. All in good nature. 

\---

By the time Pekka is let up from his stall and guided into Dan's pickup he's so hard and dazed, lips bruised and nipples aching from Rads pinching them when it was his turn, that he stumbles on his way. Once he's buckled in he rolls his head to rest against the cool glass of the car, the orange light of the parking lot lamps making his skin glow. Dan gets in and starts the car, but the sudden rumble and vibration catches Pekka off guard, who had been shifting his hips so that his balls were rubbing through his sweats and against the hard leather seat, and makes him moan. Dan chuckles and peels out of the parking lot, tearing his way home.

Pekka whines as the movement of the truck rocks him, shifting his legs against his dick, squeezing his balls, and making him pant. Then Dan takes a hand of the steering wheel and shoves it down Pekka sweats with a sharp bark "put your hands behind the headrest". He lays one long hand over the length of Pekka's dick and tucks his fingertips behind Pekka's balls, just barely pressing against his hole. Pekka gasps and rolls his hips, shuddering. 

"You got until we get home to get off. If you don't, you better come on my dick."

Pekka sobbed, eyes rolling in the back of his head. That was mean; Pekka wasn't sensitive enough to come just by getting fucked, even if he was all worked up like he was now. Dan knew this after some experimentation last bye week. So Pekka squirmed and thrusted against Dan's hand, knowing he had about ten more minutes until they got home. 

His breath came out sharp and high, little "ah, ah, ah, ah"s, body shaking and shuddering, legs twitching between staying open or closing around Dan's hand. His arms and shoulders ached as he tensed them, and he threw his head back and his muscles tightened and a deep pull began in his gut, right in his dick. Pekka thrashed in his seat as he came, caught between the leather and Dan's hand. 

When he calmed down his mind was hazy and soft, and he rolled his head to the side to see Dan holding up his hand. The right one. Covered in Pekka's come.

"Suck."

And so he did.


	4. Chapter 4

Pekka knew that things were beginning to change. He was watching every practice as Ellis became more and more unsteady, the forwards were knitting together, the defense was hanging on by a thread, and the captaincy was in shambles. He did his best to help the team.

Sometimes he'd spend the night with a teammate when asked, providing "relief" when he could. Usually the boys would ask him to cuddle with them, curling up under heavy blankets, generating enough heat to warm up his skinny frame. Other-times someone would curl a hand around the back of his neck and squeeze, the teams silent question for "sex?"

Rarely did Pekka say "no". He has; once Horny was keyed up after a shitty loss and Pekka was hurting. Horny squeezed, Pekka tried to kneel but couldn't and so he said no with his eyes fixed to the floor. Horny had helped him up, thanked him for being honest, and then laid Pekka out on the bed, worshiping his body until Pekka couldn't help but come with a groan over his own stomach. Another time Ellis, Dan, wanted to fuck Pekka, but Pekka didn't want to be fucked so he said no. Dan, who'd never asked or done anything that Pekka had said no to, was reasonably startled before gathering up Pekka and curling up on the bed with him. 

So Pekka usually says "yes". He says yes to Dan, who asks for absolute obedience as the starting goalie; He says yes to Horny, who always finds a way to laugh joyously, filled to the brim with happiness; He says yes to Rads, who is often slow and reverent, goalies mean something almost sacred to Russians, "святой, не совсем"; He says yes to Shea, who doesn't ask for much, he usually just wants to hold or to be held and Pekka can do both easily. 

\---

He gets hurt. Everyone does in this sport, but he got hurt. Troy fucking Bodie and his stupid Anaheim Ducks and this stupid season. 

He can't play. Not until December. It's so long from now, he worries that the guys will forget about him. But they don't. 

\---

Pekka has several voicemails saved on his phone; four are from his mother and father, two are from his coach, one is from Ellis, one is from Shea, one is from Rads, and one is from a young man named Roman Josi.

\---

"Hey, it's Roman Josi, from the Admirals. I just wanted to say I'm sorry that you got hurt and I can't wait to defend you when your healthy. I'm from Switzerland, but we know you pretty well over there. You're not quite a legend, but pretty close. Anyway, get rest– sorry, get lots of rest– and then I can meet you properly."

\---

He's on Dan's couch, his hip aches but he's ignoring it right now because Dan is watching him. 

"I'm going to be part of the Canadiens." Dan says it with a sense of finality, as if he expects Pekka to obey him. But Pekka doesn't know what the order is.

"You've said that two times now. I heard you the first time, I just didn't believe it." Pekka's speaking softly; it hasn't quite sunk in for him yet, but he feels the need for Dan to know that he understands.

And then Dan scoffs, a harsh coughing sound that makes Pekka flinch back.

"I'd think you'd be happy, not this depressing shit." Pekka looks at him incredulously.

"What do–"

"Bullshit to whatever you're about to say. Bull-fucking-shit. You're a backup, you were starting more frequently till you got yourself fucked up, now you've got a great opportunity!" The last bit was said sarcastically, and if Pekka wasn't in shock maybe he could have reacted better than just looking dumbfounded.

"You know what Pekka? You know what?" Dan's voice was rising as he spoke, and Pekka shook his head to answer him.

"I knew it, knew that you had been waiting for this. It wasn't enough for you to have me in your bed, huh? You just had to take the start too. And now you're pushing me out. Did you go down to coach? Tell him I can't do anything for this shit hole of a team? You tell him about us? 'Bout this thing?" Now Dan was practically screaming and all Pekka could do was watch with tears streaming down his face.

He didn't know what this was, why Dan was so upset. He thought that he'd given Dan everything. Hell, he'd even told him two nights ago that he'd give up starter just to see Dan get more ice time.

"Or maybe you just called, seeing as you're so messed up. You sick person. You know, you're the one who's into all of this. This slutty stuff. That's all you. I've just been playing around, I've been acting, I've been trying to make you happy. But nothing's good enough for you, huh? You just gotta have it all, be a fucking diva.

"You know what else Pekka? I'm not even the faggot, you are. Some convenient tight hole, that's all you are. Did you fuck your way to the top? Were those rookies right all along? Maybe so. Actually, I can't believe that I stood up for you then. You're just as slutty as they said you are."

\---

Pekka couldn't feel anything. His chest hurt, his ears were ringing, his fingers felt numb. He was at Shea's door. He was knocking on Shea's door. Shea said something, Pekka couldn't hear him. Shea grabbed him, Pekka couldn't feel him. Pekka threw up in the door way, just like he did in Dan's as he was leaving. So he remembers that much. How did he get here?

\---

He aches when he opens his eyes. He sees Shea's haggard face on the pillow next to him. He feels Shea's hands holding his wrists, keeping him anchored. 

Pekka flexes his shoulder blades and feels them pop. He cracks his neck next and sighs as tension is relieved. Shea's eyelids are beginning to flutter, so Pekka leans forward and kisses one and the other. A thank you.

Slate grey eyes watch his. Together they smiles and then snuggle. Shea holds him tight. Pekka rests his head on Shea's chest, finger tips feeling the wispy hairs, feeling again. 


	5. Chapter 5

Roman Josi was odd. That was the best thing Pekka could say about him. He was a classic pretty boy but didn't have the arrogant demeanor that was typical of good looking jocks. He was shy, ducking his head down and looking up though his stupidly long eyelashes. He would flush high on his cheeks and ears when Shea praised him, when coach praised him, when anyone praised him. But his neck also flushed red when Pekka praised him. 

So Pekka kept an eye on him. 

He seemed to be fitting in well with the rest of the team. The guys liked him, thought he was pretty and silly but good on ice. The coaches liked him because he put in the work without complaining and didn't fight the corrections they gave him. Pekka liked him because he actually tried to defend. 

\---

There were a string of losses and it made Pekka's blood boil. If Dan leaving was good for anything, it helped Pekka realize that he actually had a secure place on the team and he didn't need to fear anymore. Therefore Pekka took liberties that he never would have dreamed of as a rookie. Like he was now.

"What the hell is this team doing?! This is the third game now! I'm trying out there, but it's not just the goalie, there's supposed to be at least 5 fucking other players out there! Where are you guys?! Not in front of me that's for damn sure!"

Pekka takes a short pause and looks around the room.

Shea is watching him, jaw set firm, trying to take the criticism without naturally rebelling.

Rads has his head down and his fists clenched; Pekka knows he's listening.

Horny is also looking at Pekka, but his eyes are checked out, not because he doesn't care but because he's reviewing mentally what happened out there; Pekka knows that Horny improves best with self-reflection and some gentle nudging, but it's not good for some players to leave the locker room when an ass-whipping is taking place.

The rookies are huddled together, some cowering, others checked out, others listening. Josi though, sits next to Horny and looks at Pekka with big eyes, rimmed wet. His bottom lip is trembling, and Pekka has a feeling that Josi is taking this pretty hard. 

"I am one guy, and I am standing in front of at least 20 people. Now these people are supposedly professional hockey players, but I wouldn't believe it. Not based on that performance. I don't have a whole lot else to say. Mostly 'cause I can't. I'm pretty fucking disappointed. We could have had this game. It's fucking Calgary! Do you realize how soft they are? They are supposed to be nothing and now you've made them into something. Congradu-fucking-lations."

With that Pekka sat down heavily in his stall and leaned back, trying not to flinch as his bare shoulders feel the cold wood, resting his head against the wood. He was so tired. He's been playing almost non-stop and it's taken too much out of him and the team. 

He's going over the third goal he let in when the light that's reaching past his closed eyes is dimmed. Opening his eyes reveals Roman, hair and skin wet from the shower, sweats on and bag over his shoulder. The kid must have sped through everything, unless-

Pekka looks around the room, no one else is there except Shea, who's also showered and dressed. So he did lose some time. 

"What do you want Josi?"

"I-I'm sorry, I should ha-"

"You trying to tell me you're sorry? As if it's gonna fix that mess?" Pekka gestures to the doors as he speaks. 

Roman flushes and twists his hands together, his shoulders hunching.

"I think you can do better than that." Shea speaks up from across the room, his eyes narrowed but his jaw is relaxed enough that Pekka knows what he wants Roman to do. 

Roman gulps before sliding his bag off his shoulder and tosses it a few feet to the left of him, then he folds himself down, right where he is. Shea inhales sharply, loud enough to be heard from across the room.

Pekka does his best to hid his surprise behind a raised eyebrow, and he spreads his legs to a comfortable sprawl. He smirks when he sees Roman's eyes flicker down over his semi and back up. Roman flushes. 

"So," Pekka drawls. "You wanna make it up to me?"

Roman nods.

"Ask."

"P-please?"

"Please what Roman, c'mon there's supposed to be more in your pretty head."

"Please let me– please let me suck your cock."

Roman's eyes are wide and his face must be burning with how ferociously he's blushing, but his dick is and obvious and hard line in his sweats.

"Why?"

"'Cause I was- was bad, please Pekka!"

Pekka raises his brow again and wonders if this was how Dan, how Shea feels, when Pekka begs for them.

"Please what? I don't think you deserve to call me by my name, so what should you call me? And while we're at it, what should I call you? Slut?"

Roman gasps and his eyes get more hazy, but his cock jerks in his sweats and a wet spot is growing over the front of them, so Pekka thinks he's on board.

"No, but maybe some other time. Don't Finns have a special name, a word for gold or something?" Shea speaks up again, and Pekka grins. 

"Aw, he's right, you're too pretty right now for that. Maybe when you're gagging on my cock I can call you a whore. But right now, you're kulta, kultani. My gold. Anyway, you haven't answered yet, what are you gonna call me?"

Roman's mouth was hanging open, sucking in air, and his shoulders were shaking from pent up tension. 

"Hmm, come here."

Roman begins to get up but Pekka tsks and snaps his fingers down to the ground. 

"Crawl."

Roman whimpers, but does what Pekka asks. It takes some starts and stops, but Roman is eventually only a few inches away from Pekka's cock. Big green eyes are staring up at Pekka, and he feels almost drunk with the control he has over the rookie. 

Fisting a hand in Roman's hair, Pekka tugs his head back until his throat is barred.

"What, are you going to call me?"

"Please- please! Sir!" Roman wails as his back arches and his hips thrust up. His whole body shakes and Pekka realizes that Roman's coming, completely untouched. 

Eyes wide, Pekka looks up and over at Shea who had been stroking himself over his jeans, but had now stopped with his hand just resting over his dick, only having eyes for Roman, needing to see if he was going to be okay. 

Pekka let go of Roman and the rookie tipped forward until his forehead rested against Pekka's hip. Warm breath brushed over Pekka's cock as Roman panted. 

With some gentle maneuvering Pekka eased his cock out and slipped it into Roman lax mouth. The boy just suckled gently, making soft movements but not really giving a proper blowjob. Pekka crooned and scraped his nails over Roman's scalp, listening to his whimpers.

Eventually Pekka pulls out and stokes himself until he comes over Roman's face, the kid all soft and sweet, looking up at him. Shea comes over too and adds to the mess as Roman whimpers and clutches at Shea's jean clad thighs.

\---

As Pekka wakes up the next morning, still pissed about last nights loss, but warm from the two bodies squeezed into his hotel bed, he decides that having Josi on the team is pretty damn good.

Even if he's not Pekka's rookie. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long! eek!

Pekka doesn’t like getting surprised. Not after Elis got traded, after Josi, Nealsy. He doesn’t like that he’s out of control, doesn’t know what’s happening, that he’s not in the loop. So he pays attention to the affiliates, trying to predict who’s getting called up and when. 

After Josi, Pekka adopted the role that Shea often took on: greeting newcomers and getting them used to the team dynamic. 

When Nealsy got traded to them Pekka actually pulled Shea to the side and asked that he be allowed to wholey take care of him. It hurt Shea’s pride a little, but Shea knew that he wasn’t delicate enough to balance out Nealsy cocktail of hurt and anger with loving and sternness and expectation without feeling too overbearing. So Pekka holds his hand out to Nealsy when they first meet, and doesn’t curl it up allowing his fingertips to brush against the soft skin of Nealsy’s wrist.

\---

Pekka gets the call when he’s in bed with Shea and Nealsy. They had dragged Nealsy home and pressed him down so that he was over Pekka but under Shea. Like that Shea ground against Nealsy’s ass, mouthing at his neck and telling him how good he was being. Like that Pekka arched his spine and gripped at the sheets as Nealsy fucked him. Like that Nealsy gasped and sobbed as anger and sadness and hurt melted away and he accepted their kisses and hugs and bites. 

Nealsy’s thrusts are stuttering, so so close, when Pekka’s phone rings. Shea growls and bites Nealsy’s neck again, but reaches across the bed and grabs the phone. He stills when he sees who’s calling.

“It’s Ben.”

Pekka sits up in a flash, tugging himself away from Nealsy who tries his best not to look saddened by the loss. 

“Pekka Rinne.”

“Hey Pekka, sorry to interrupt your night but the heads made a move. Well, not really. But they’re bringing up a guy, another Finn. Juuse Saros.”

“Okay… thank you for telling me?”

Out of the corner of his eye Pekka can see Shea man handle Nealsy onto his back on the other bed. Nealsy fists a hand in his mouth as Shea licks over Nealsy’s dark nipples and down to his dick. 

“Sorry, just wanted to tell you, but I think they want you to breed him, groom him. I think they want him to take over when you retire, heaven forbid that it’s soon.”

“Oh. I see. When does he come in?”

“Soon, not sure how soon though. You gonna show him the ropes?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, excellent. Cool. Okay, goodnight Pekka.”

“Goodnight Ben, thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome Pekka.”

Pekka hangs up and tosses the phone away. He takes a deep breath in and out before crawling out of bed and hopping onto the other bed. One hand on Neasly’s chest he straddles his hips before sinking down on his dick with Shea against his back, holding a hand against his throat. 

\----

Nealsy holds up his phone when Pekka gets out of the showers. 

“This kid, your new rookie or whatever? He’s cute!”

Pekka rolls his eyes before walking over to Nealsy and looking.

“Eh, sure.”

Pekka shrugs and flops down on the bed while Nealsy looks at him in shock.

“Sure?! He’s fucking adorable. He’s like a little puppy! Look at those dimples and that little mark!”

Pekka flaps his hand at Nealsy, eyes already sliding shut. Shea chuckles and cards his fingers through his hair before giving Pekka and Nealsy a kiss.

“I think he’s just a little cute Pekka, gotta give him some slack.”

With one eye opened, Pekka glared at Shea, but eventually smiled as his captain gave one of his rare smiles.

\----

Juuse is something of an enigma. 

\----

They are out in town, in some sort of club that Pekka doesn’t frequent but with a reputation for certain things that Pekka knows well. 

Here Pekka watches as Shea grips Roman’s hips on the dancefloor, allowing the rookie to arch his neck and lay back against Shea’s chest. Here Pekka sees Nealsy drag the bridge of his nose against the jawline of this gorgeous woman. Here Pekka sees Juuse sway by himself in a crowd of writhing bodies. 

People come up to Juuse, men and women, and dance with him and ask him questions. In the end he shakes his head at each of them. A tall and broad man with dark slicked back hair bites a red mark on Juuse’s neck, but is turned away with a simple shake of the head. A curvy woman with sleek red hair cards her neon green nails through Juuse’s hair, tugging at the ends in a way that makes his mouth open, but he smiles sympathetically and shakes his head.

In the end Juuse is alone. 

\----

Pekka’s strapping up in the locker room, getting into the game-night mindset, when Juuse’s voice rises above the din.

“Daddy! Yeah, he’s a daddy for sure.”

Juuse is all strapped up and hanging around Ryan Ellis; last he heard they were looking at something on Ellis’ phone making comments about people and swiping left or right. 

“I dunno, he looks like Pekka,” Ryan shivered. 

Pekka tried not to be offended on principle. Juuse looked up across the room, grey crystal eyes glinting.

“Yeah, he sort of does. What do you say Pekka? You’re a Daddy?”

Pekka felt his ears heat up, maybe as much as Juuse’s cheekbones were flaring red; it felt good to know that that little shit was also affected.

“Not sure, with all the shit you pull I suppose I’ve gotta look after you. Guess that makes me a daddy, your daddy.” Pekka purposefully kept his voice even, eyes narrowed, chin tilted up. 

Juuse’s flush deepened, but Pekka had to hand it to him, he kept his gaze steady.

\----

Pekka wasn’t sure what Juuse’s deal was. 

\---

“He’s so flexible, like you. I know he’s a goalie too, but I can push him onto his stomach on the bed and then stretch out his legs so he’s doing the... splits? Yeah, the splits. He’s got such a tight ass, you’d never believe–”

The asshole never got to say much more before Pekka punched him across the jaw, knocking him to the ground. 

Pekka walked away, rubbing his knuckles. He spoke to the bouncer of the club, explained the problem, got the guy removed.

As he sat back down in the booth with other veterans, he tried to not think about Juuse’s pale face, the hurt glint in his eyes, how his shoulders had tensed when the man had come up to him, why Pekka reacted the way he did.

Juuse was still on the dance floor, but he was watching Pekka now, and Pekka watched back. Juuse’s eyes looked almost black in the club light but they bored into Pekka’s soul. Pekka nodded at Juuse, before turning to Rads. 

\----

Juuse had a shitty taste in men

\----

Pekka never set a curfew for Juuse; he just asked that should Juuse come home late, that he be quiet, but the kid usually was. He’d toe off his shoes, hang up his coat, drop his keys in the bowl, and sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

But Pekka was worried; Juuse said he was going out around 9pm, it was now 2 in the morning. 

He didn’t mean to stay up waiting, but here he was, sitting in his armchair in the living room, reading under the soft light of the lamp, trying not to be overly nervous.

Finally, 15 minutes before 3, Pekka heard Juuse’s key in the lock. He was loud, fumbling around and giggling. For a minute, Pekka thought he’d brought someone home with him, but Pekka couldn’t hear multiple voices; he only heard Juuse talking to himself in low Finnish. 

Juuse stumbled into the living room, shoes off but coat still on and keys hanging from his fingertips, and he visibly brightened upon seeing Pekka. 

“Pekka! Hi!” Juuse chirped, slumping against the door frame. 

Pekka stood, alarmed.

“Juuse...are you drunk?!”

Juuse’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down.

“No? No! I’m not.” His face stretched as a lazy but joyus grin overtook him. “I feel great though!”

“Are you...uh...high?”

“Pekkaaaaaaa. You know I wouldn’t do that! ‘M not...not...uh...like that.”

“Then what’s–”

“I got dommed by, like, the best guy I’ve met here.” That shut Pekka up real fast. “He’s got like, crazy big hands and he’s super tall and he doesn’t mind that I have a weird schedule. Nicer than that guy you punched. That guy was a dick.” 

Pekka just stared at Juuse, not knowing what to think. 

“Speaking of dick, he’s got a big one. Big hands, big dick. It’s so good. He’s got me good. I need it sometimes, and he knows it. Sees me, grabs me, puts me down, makes me take it. I love it.”

Juuse squirmed, rounding his shoulders forward so that his jacket stretched over his back. 

“Knows how to use a flogger too.”

That was just too much.

“Did he give you proper aftercare?” Pekka hoped his voice was as even as he thought it was.

“I dunno. The scene was long, I passed out for a little bit afterward. He got me an uber home though, so that’s nice.”

Pekka swallowed, throat clicking from how dry it was. 

“I think I should look over it. Just in case. I have the proper stuff.”

Juuse smiled again, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing.

“Okay! Thank you Pekka!”

\-------

From there they had a sort of routine. 

Pekka established that Juuse had to tell him where he was going, who he was sceneing with, and when he’d be back. Once he was back, Pekka would check Juuse over, rub him down with lotion or help apply ice to his bruises. Then Juuse would get wrapped up in his softest blanket and put to bed. 

They didn’t talk about it too much. Juuse mostly rambled about the guys who dommed him, and Pekka listened so he’d know what to look for on Juuse’s body. 

Of course, like all things, this system went well until it didn’t.

\-----

Juuse told Pekka that he was going to his usual place, to his usual dom, and would be back around 1 am. Pekka was fine with that.

What Pekka was not fine with was the owner of the club calling him, telling him that a brown haired, hazeled eyed, sub with a beauty mark by his left eye wanted him to pick him up. What Pekka was not fine with was getting to the club at 2:30 AM. What Pekka was not fine with is finding Juuse curled up in a corner on a sofa, not letting any of the club’s emergency doms touch him.

Pekka took the time to breathe through his nose, calmly walking over to Juuse.

“Mussu, Juuse, can you look at me?”

Juuse’s head shoots up and he scrambles off the couch to get closer to Pekka. He crashes into Pekka and tries to burrow into the sweatshirt Pekka had tossed on; he’s trembling. 

Pekka turns to the club owner and the emergency doms who were hovering around the room, clearly stressed about not being able to help.

“Do you know what happened?”

The club owner nodded, and gestured for one of the doms to step up.

“Hey, uh, Juice usually goes with Andy, but Andy called in sick earlier today and I guess Juice didn’t know? We told him that there were other doms available, and I think he really wanted to go down, because he said okay. He doesn’t usually do that, he just likes Andy. But he did. He went with Spencer; heaven knows why ‘cause Spencer’s more of a pain guy? Juice likes being all sweet, not rough and bratty, at least in the way that Spencer likes. They go into the back room and are there for maybe 20, 30 minutes? And a panic button goes off. Spencer pressed it, ‘cause Juice was dropping, but Spencer couldn’t bring him up. Spencer said that Juice didn’t safeword, and he couldn’t understand what he was saying to tell what was wrong. So we were called in, but none of us could get him to speak english. He won’t talk to us. We had no idea how to help him, so we called you since your listed as a top emergency dom.”

Pekka pets Juuse’s head, completely thrown for a loop and overwhelmed with the jealous desire and anger completely ban Juuse from going to any dom but him. And then Pekka has to pause, because where the hell did that come from? He’s not a dom, well, not a practicing one, as if it were a profession. Juuse whines and nudges Pekka’s hand with his head, demanding that Pekka keeps petting him. Pekka aquieses.

\----

It takes some major finagling, but Pekka gets Juuse home. Pekka practically carries the kid into the house and up the stairs. Pekka doesn’t even consider it before he drops Juuse onto his own bed, letting the boy writhe against the sheets to find a comfortable position. 

Pekka got to talk to Spencer before leaving, learned what Spencer had done and what Pekka needed to look over on Juuse. Spencer was out of his mind with nerves, so apologetic and terrified as to what he did wrong. Pekka assured him that Juuse sometimes got like this, a little stir crazy and tried things that he shouldn’t. 

“Pekka,” Juuse whimpered.

Pekka turned swiftly. That was the first thing Juuse had said this whole evening.

“What is it mussu?”

“Pekka.” Juuse grabbed for Pekka and hummed contentedly when Pekka got his arms around him.

“Mussu, I need to check you over, okay?”

“Pekka,” Juuse grumbled, before rolling away and glaring and him petulantly. For all his complaining, Juuse cooperated and Pekka got him stripped down into his briefs. 

Pekka was checking his range of motion with his leg, lifting it up and bending it at the knee and hip until his thigh pressed against his chest and his heel touched his ass, when Juuse hitched out a sound. Startled, Pekka looked down only to see Juuse blissed out, eyes hooded and mouth open and red. A flush was working its way down Juuse’s chest and his fingers were spasming against the sheets. 

Juuse wet his lips with his tongue before speaking, “Pekka, isä, please,” and canting his hips up. All Pekka could do is stare, watching as Juuse writhes until he can push his hips against Pekka’s leg while still being held. Pekka’s frozen, but Juuse is rabbiting against him, little pulses of hips and sweet sounds, begging “isä” and “please”.

Finally he has the sense to let go of Juuse’s leg and repositions himself so he’s holding himself over Juuse, placing one thigh between Juuse’s so he can rub off on him. 

“There you go mussu. This is what you needed, yes?”

Juuse sobs and turns his head against the pillow, mouth opening and closing. Pekka shifts his weight onto one hand and uses the other to turn Juuse’s head back to him, slipping two fingers into his open mouth. Juuse’s tongue, hot and wet, laves at Pekka’s fingers, almost matching the rhythm of his hips. He starts shaking, his thighs clench around Pekka, and he almosts gags on Pekka’s fingers as he comes. 

Pekka presses a kiss against Juuse’s cheek, feeling the cold tear tracks on his face. 

“I’ll take care of you mussu. I can be yours, you can be mine. We still need to talk about it, but if you want me, you have me.”

Teary eyes look up at Pekka, before sliding shut so Juuse can continue to suck at Pekka’s fingers, a silent acknowledgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... as some of you can see there wasn't really any communication between Pekka and Juuse before the sex happened; Juuse is still under, and Pekka has a whole lot of power of Juuse right now. I did write that intentionally because I (hopefully) conveyed how much trust Juuse has in Pekka, and despite being under Juuse can still communicate with Pekka. 
> 
> Now that I think about it, I think I have a trust kink....IT IS SEXY TO TRUST YOUR PARTNER, TALK TO EACH OTHER!!!!


End file.
